


Refraction

by silentdescant



Category: Pentatonix
Genre: Bad Days, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7886359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Scott doesn't know when to quit, and Mitch gets frustrated. Thankfully Avi is a good comfort snuggler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refraction

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first thing I wrote for this fandom a couple months ago. I lasted about two weeks after seeing a PTX show before writing fic. Now that I know the characters a little better I cleaned it up and fleshed it out so I could post it.

Scott and Kirstie have started playing a game with each other. It's called "Tumblr or Tinder" and Mitch knows they're playing it whenever they try to sneakily watch him out of the corner of their eyes while they're giggling together. Mitch usually rolls his eyes and depending on his mood, either shouts at them or plays up his reaction to whatever he sees on his phone. He doesn't know who's winning. He doesn't know how often they even know the answer, because Mitch splits his time pretty evenly between the two apps and because of the extremely explicit images on both, it's become a habit for him to keep his phone angled at his chest.

"I'm going Tinder," Scott murmurs with a grin.

Kirstie squints over at Mitch, clearly looking for some sort of signal, before shaking her head and saying, "Definitely Tumblr."

Mitch is not in the mood today. "I will fucking throw this at you both," he says. He wouldn't, really, because he can't imagine intentionally throwing his phone ever, but surely he can find something non-breakable to throw at them. The half-eaten granola bar on the side table, for instance.

"No, you're right, definitely Tumblr," Scott says. He's not even whispering now, and his voice is choked with the barely contained laughter that means he thinks he's hilarious. Mitch is sure the wine isn't helping.

Mitch hurls the granola bar at them. It bounces off Scott's shoulder and leaves crumbs in the folds of his hoodie.

"Was I right?"

Kirstie, who is definitely the smartest of the pair, comes and curls up next to Mitch, resting her head on his arm. "Sorry, babe."

Scott rolls his eyes and barely even waits a few seconds before grinning at Kirstie. "Was I right?" He asks again. He comes over to the bed and tries to scoot in next to Mitch, where there's absolutely no room for him.

"Oh my god," Mitch groans, quickly shoving his phone into his pocket. "I'm gonna kick you out, I swear."

"Ooh, maybe it is Tinder," Scott teases. He slides off the bed and returns to the desk, where his glass of wine is waiting.

Mitch takes off his shoe and aims for Scott's head. He misses, but the intention was clear. Kirstie, again proving she's the smartest, hops up and drags Scott by the arm to the tiny hallway of the hotel room. "We're gonna go down to the bar," she says with false brightness. Her grip on Scott's arm tightens. "I'll text you later."

The door opens and closes, leaving Mitch in frustrated silence. Today's just been a bad day, and he knows it's not Scott's fault. It's not anybody's fault. It's not even his own fault, no matter how much his brain is sniping at him that it is definitely his fault.

Mitch changes into a pair of sweats and scrolls through his phone for a while trying to find music to blast, something to distract him, but each song he plays just ratchets up his annoyance. It's too loud, it's too slow, it's too heavy, too repetitive, too angry, too, too, too. Too much. He finishes Scott's abandoned wine, but it's lukewarm and extremely unsatisfying. He's not even buzzed, and he's not sure it would help anyway.

 **Sorry about earlier** , Kirstie texts several minutes later. **U ok?**

 **K said u were upset** , Scott texts, right on Kirstie's heels. No apology, no question mark, a simple statement of fact. Then: **I think u need to get laid.**

"Fucking asshole," Mitch mutters. He doesn't respond to either of them, trusting Kirstie to keep Scott occupied for at least a little while longer. He considers calling Esther but she's a problem solver, and this isn't something she can fix. She can't just knock some sense into Scott and make it all better, because Scott isn't really the problem. It doesn't matter that Mitch can recognize that; the bad headspace lingers. He needs to relax somehow. Besides, Mitch doesn't feel like talking. He decides to call Avi instead. Without even waiting for a hello, he says, "Scott's being annoying and I can't get out of my head and I need you to help me chill out."

In true Avi fashion, no surprise registers in his voice. "I'm watching Lord of the Rings," he says.

"Can you come over?"

"Sure."

Two minutes later, Avi knocks on the door. He's carrying his laptop in one hand with the movie still playing at low volume, and a bag of microwave popcorn in the other. Without a word, he makes himself comfortable on Mitch's bed with the laptop perched on a pillow to raise it up from his lap. Mitch settles in at his side, half on top of him, head resting on Avi's chest.

"Wanna talk?" Avi asks.

 _No_ , Mitch thinks, but Avi deserves some explanation. "Today's just been bad," he whispers. "Then Scott was being hyper and drunk and stupid and just didn't get it and Kirstie finally made him leave."

"What was bad about today? The show was awesome."

"Hmm."

"It was. You were awesome, and I didn't forget any of my choreo, and Scott didn't mess up any lyrics, and Kirstie didn't start crying, and Kevin didn't miss his cue," Avi says confidently, listing only a few of the multitudes of issues they've had so far in their tour. "You didn't want to drink with Scott and Kirstie?"

"I had some but it just made everything worse. It's been a long week, I think it's just catching up to me."

"I'm sorry. You were incredible tonight. Took a lot out of you. And that's okay."

It's nice to hear, even if it doesn't drown out the self-criticisms racing through Mitch's head. He's done talking, and he wants to be done thinking too. "Tell me about the movie," he says. "What happened so far?"

He's seen it several times and Avi's seen it probably a million times, so it's no secret Mitch is using it as an excuse to hear Avi talk. He presses his ear firmly to Avi's sternum, listening for his steady heartbeat under the deep, vibrating rumble of his voice as he summarizes the first half of Fellowship of the Ring. When he catches up to the movie, he starts occasionally humming the soundtrack along with it, and Mitch joins in for the parts he knows.

"Why are you not gay?" he sighs. Scott wasn't completely right, but he wasn't totally wrong either; Mitch doesn't need to get laid, but a boyfriend would nice. It would be really nice. Comforting.

"I don't have to be gay for this," Avi replies. "You know I love you?"

"Yeah."

"We all do. Even Scott when he's being an asshole. He loves you a whole lot."

"I know."

Guilt settles into the pit of Mitch's stomach. He's being unreasonable and whiny and he doesn't even know why. He can feel Avi looking at him. He prickles with the intensity of the silence between them, so sure that Avi is about to say more. He holds his breath, anticipating words that will be hard to hear aloud, and he thinks he's being subtle about it until Avi's hand starts rubbing at the tension in Mitch's shoulders. He keeps it up until Mitch is breathing normally again, his body loose as the bad feelings subside.

"Oh, this is the good part," Avi tells him quietly. The whole trilogy is "the good part" according to Avi, but it's fascinating to hear the incremental increase in his heart rate as a battle rages on screen. After a few minutes, Avi reaches up and pets Mitch's hair and asks, "How's the head?"

It's easier to block out his own mind when he's focusing on Avi, on Avi's soothing hands and steady breathing and solid warmth, so he whispers, "Getting better. Keep talking. What's that guy's name?"

It's an elf, and Mitch knows elves have history, because Avi talks in depth about elven history sometimes with his sister, who tolerates him nerding out over fantasy fiction. Sure enough, Avi seizes the opportunity for a captive audience and launches an explanation about the elf's entire family tree. Mitch doesn't absorb the details, just lets Avi's deep voice resonate through his body until he drifts into a sleepy half-doze. He's aware of Avi falling quiet, returning to humming along with the soundtrack, but it's not enough to jar Mitch back into full consciousness.

He hears his phone ding with a text message, feels Avi pick it up and tap out a reply, but he doesn't particularly care about what was said. Until he closed his eyes, Mitch hadn't realized how exhausting today has been. His bad mood and low-grade anxiety have taken a toll, and it's easy now to let it all go.

Some amount of time later, the bed shifts enough to pull Mitch from sleep as Avi slips out from under him. He doesn't open his eyes, though, just listens to the door open and close, and the indecipherable rumble of Avi's low voice as he speaks to someone. Scott answers, equally quiet and just as muddled. They talk for another moment or two but Mitch can't make out the words, so he buries his face in the pillow Avi left in his wake and lets their voices wash over him.

Avi comes back and kisses Mitch's head, his beard tickling Mitch's ear. "Goodnight, Mitchy."

"Nigh'," Mitch mumbles back.

The bed shifts again, this time from Scott climbing on and cuddling up to Mitch's back. He drapes one arm over Mitch's chest and presses his open palm to Mitch's sternum. His breath is hot and quick against Mitch's neck. "Sorry, Mitchy."

Sighing, Mitch lays his hand over Scott's and fits their bodies together. It's familiar, comfortable, and Mitch is too sleepy to find words to respond. But this is enough.


End file.
